No Warning Label

 Motherhood.

The hardest job there is.

We learn pretty quickly that there is no instruction manual for these humans we bring into this world. And to be pretty honest, that's one of the best parts; we're all just winging it, figuring it out, tweaking things as we go, learning from others, doing the best we can. 

Instruction manuals I'm cool not having. What I do wish we had, however, are warning labels.

There's a quote I read years ago that has always stuck with me: "one day you and your friends went out to play for the last time and didn't even know it". That's what your kids growing up can feel like. One minute they are totally dependent on you, and suddenly, they're able to do most things for themselves. No warning. I'll never forget the time I got home from work when my oldest daughter was about 10, and she was so excited to show me that she straightened her own hair. I was both proud and sad, because up until that moment, that was always something she needed me for. Sectioning and ironing her hair always brought me back to when she was a newborn with what I called her "grandpa patch" of hair, wrapping only along the bottom half of her sweet little scalp, which I softly brushed each morning. No longer being needed for this small task was one of my first big "holy shit" moments in realizing my girls were growing up. 

For lack of a better word, we have a lot of "control" over our kids for years; what they wear, what they eat, what they watch, who they spend time with, where they go. We expect, to an extent, certain things to go before others - like when they begin to dress themselves in an array of patterns and colors, or refuse to eat spinach, or make friends they want to have sleepovers with. But then there are the things you don't see coming, the assumption you had more time, and the delusion that we still have "control".

Going back, I always joke that I peaked as a parent when my girls were about 7 & 10. For that first decade of parenting, I was a motherhood champion. We would visit multiple playgrounds in a day, attend story time at the library, visit zoos and museums, spend whole days crafting and painting, building forts and pretend trains from dining room chairs, throwing mattresses onto the floor to have one big jumping dance party...I could go on and on. And yeah, I'll toot my own freaking horn for those years because I loved them. My girls and I had so much fun and spent so much time together (helicopter parent or not). And then one day, playgrounds were boring, suggestions of board games were laughed at, zoos were for babies, and dance parties were embarrassing. I felt like all the things that made me a good mother went out the window without warning. How nice would it be to live in a (totally unrealistic) world where there was a countdown to these things? 3 more trips to the playground before they're over it. Only a few more games of Yahtzee played willingly. The next time you throw on Flo Rida will be met with eye rolls. 

Letting go has been, by far, the most difficult part of my parenting journey. You know that you are supposed to give them wings to fly, but when they choose their own departure date, it takes you by surprise. They not only want you around less, but need you around less. Time with friends and, recently, boyfriends, becomes their priority. Finding balance between letting them live their own lives and having their own experiences, and still inserting yourself as their parent is tough. They like you a little less as you set expectations and guidelines. You question whether or not you are being too strict, too lenient, try to step out of your comfort zone to give them more freedom while finding your own limits. You try to be a part of their world by inserting yourself in their interests, like heavy metal shows and learning the latest TikTok dance trend. You mourn the loss of their little snuggly selves, the supermom you once were when you were their whole world, the rude awakening that there is no going backwards, and that the rate that life moves forward is so much faster and unexpected than you could ever imagine. The letting go is so hard, because even though you've spent your whole parenting journey building these exact independent kids for these exact reasons, as they grow and change, you just really freaking miss them. 

Going from 100% mom-duty 24-7 to only being needed here and there, whether its for rides, money, advice - it's like an identity crisis. We're told we get 18 years with them, which we all know is not true since they will always be our babies, but what I wasn't ready for, or prepared for in the least, was slowly losing them years before they become a legal adult. I feel gipped. Robbed of time. Unwarned. You expect the teenage attitudes, you don't expect to truly miss them this young. 

I am so proud of the women my girls are becoming, and am well aware that everything I am experiencing is age appropriate. And, that I played a big role in their comfort to be their own independent person. I am learning to navigate this new parenting path with our now older children. Adjusting. Adapting. Revisiting. Relinquishing control. Still being needed but in new, less ways. Still being mom while forming a friendship. It's hard, it's messy, it's new, and it's ever changing. Of course there are hundreds of things I love about these ages, too; deeper conversations, the trust we have built for them to share fears and concerns, welcoming them into our family's world of colorful language, sarcasm and raunchy movies. (Again, never said we were great parents). But we have lots of fun with our girls, even if it's not the motherhood-fun I pretty much built my personality around as a young mom.

We went out to play for the last time one day, and no one knew it.

All I'm saying, is that a warning would have been nice.

Love, a struggling mom of teens. xo